The New DADA Teacher at Hogwarts is Hinata Hyuuga?
by VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps
Summary: Hinata is a shy 18yearold, not the type of person who likes attention, conflict, and praise. Being the new DADA teacher, thousands of kids get to stare at her all day. And how is she expected to teach them something she doesn't know? Naruto.Harry Potter
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter and never will.

The New Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwarts is... Hinata Hyuuga!?

Chapter 1: Professor Hyuuga, Conceited Snobs, and Strange Symbols

"Settle down, students!" Dumbledore's voice rang threw the large room. Everyone looked up at him, then stopped talking, letting him continue. "First I would like to welcome the first years to their new school, and in hopes that you will enjoy it here." He paused to look out at all the excited new faces. His eyes darted over to the Slytherin table, to see sunken and stoic faces. "Second, I would like to inform you of the new rules." There was a disapproving mutter at all four of the long tables that stood infront of him. "You may not, under any circumstances, steal from the teachers"—his eyes darted over to the Gryfindore table—"or disrespect anyone, teacher or student"—he eyed the Slytherin table once more, then smiled. "Now, as for your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher--"

The door slammed open, and creaked as if was about to fall off it's hinges. A woman that looked to be the around eighteen stepped in, her white-ish lavender eyes darting around uncomfortably. She was shy looking and as pale as the moon. Her black-ish blue-ish purple-ish hair went down to the middle of her back and was strait and wet from the rain outside. She didn't wear robes, but instead a normal looking jacket that was dark blue with tan sleeves, black pants, and these weird looking black shoes that no one had ever seen before. She was shivering and wet, as if she had been outside in the storm for too long, and had just decided to come in.

Dumbledore smiled. Professor McGonagall scurried out of her chair behind Dumbledore and walked over to the startled girl. The students started muttering as she led the girl up to Dumbledore. The three of them exchanged some hushed words, and then Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Everybody, this is Professor Hyuuga, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." More muttering erupted from the students as Professor Hyuuga slowly turned and bowed to them. But the loudest mutter was from the Slytherin table, where a young boy with bleach blonde hair yelled out, "She's a freak with the white eyes!"

---

It was Monday and the first day of classes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked threw the crowded halls towards their first class. "Well, it's not right!" boomed the only girl in the group, Hermione.

"Shut the bloody hell up! You know I'm right, you just don't want to admit it!" the red haired boy of the group, Ron, yelled at her from the other side of the boy in the middle.

"Do you seriously think I'm that conceited?" Hermione boomed at him.

"When have you not been?"

"Ron! You are such an idiot! Can't you see that what I'm saying is the truth?"

"The truth? Ha! When did you learn that word?"

The boy in the middle of the arguing group just sighed, knowing it would be useless to try and stop his two best friends from fighting. He had bright green eyes and messy black hair that looked good with his thick-rimmed glasses and lightning shaped scar. He color of his tie showed him to be a member of Gryfindore, along with his two best friends.

"For your information, Ronald, I saw her kissing him with my very own eyes, so if you don't believe me it's your loss because your girlfriends is a lying git!" And with that she stomped of to her first class. The three of them had the same first class, Defense Against the Dar Arts. They were looking forward to it because the new teacher looked so interesting that first night in the Great Hall.

As the two of them got there they saw that everyone else was already there, minus a bleach blonde haired boy named Draco Malfoy. Professor Hyuuga was writing something on the board, and everyone else was talking quietly, most likely about the new teacher. The two boys went to go sit down with a clumsy boy named Neville Longbottom, who had been their friend since their very first year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. As soon as they did, Neville leaned closer to them and said, "Do you see what the professor is writing on the board?"

The two of them looked up to see that she was writing a bunch of strange symbols and lines. "She's almost used u the whole board just writing them. And nobody knows what they mean. Not even Hermione."

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "Not even Hermione…" Ron repeated in utter shock. "But she knows everything!" he said a little too loud, because everyone stopped and looked at him. "Sorry," he muttered while looking down.

"Class," a soft voice called that nobody heard at first. "Class," it said a tiny bit louder. Everybody looked up to where the voice came from, to see the professor standing there looked at them shyly. "Please copy what is on the board. When you are done, you may talk until the others finish."

So Harry got out his quill, ink, and parchment and began to copy the strange symbols down as accurately as he could. When he was finished he looked up to see a couple other people done, whispering quietly. SLAM! And then he saw the door slam against the stone wall and a certain bleach blonde walk in. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Freaky-eyes." The Slytherins snickered to themselves quietly, while the Gryfindores just glared.

"Please sit down and copy what's on the board." More glares.

"Why should I? What are you gonna do if I don't? Stare me down?" More snickers.

She stepped behind the large desk in the front of the room and took a piece of paper out of it. She looked over it for a minute or so, then put it on the desk, picked up a quill, dipped the tip of the quill in ink, and started to write something on it.

"What are you writing?" Draco just didn't know when to quit. Harry could feel his glare intensifying, and his fists clenched. But what she said made him loose focus of his glare and stare at her.

"What?" Draco asked in just as much shock as Harry. More snickers, this time from the Gryfindores.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Naruto, Harry Potter, or the book Oh, What Nonsense!.

Extra information (not necessary): Manda is Orochimaru's largest and most powerful summoned snake. He demands hundreds of human sacrifices ready for him for after his help in combat. If he doesn't receive his sacrifices, or if the person who summoned him isn't Orochimaru himself, Manda will kill the person who called for him to fight. On top of that, it is only Orochimaru's power that he respects, not the summoner, as Kabuto Yakushi believed that Manda would have turned on Orochimaru had he learned that Orochimaru couldn't use his techniques at the time. Some of his greatest abilities include his unbelievable speed, and the fact that he is able to shed his skin as a use of a Body Replacement Technique. He has a very poor disposition, and he clearly doesn't like either Gamabunta or Katsuyu, and only savors to kill the both of them. After Jiraiya and Tsunade teamed up to fight him, which resulted in Manda's mouth getting impaled by Gamabunta's sword, Manda disclosed to Orochimaru and Kabuto that he would most definitely eat them the next time he is summoned.

Authors note: Sorry if it's kinda short.

The New Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwarts is... Hinata Hyuuga!?

Chapter 2: Freak-eyes, Manda, a Little Slip of Parchment, and a Quintle

"But you can't give _me_ a detention! Do you know who I am!? I'm Draco Malfoy, and my father will hear about this!"

…

…

…

"I-is that all, M-Manda?"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Freak-eyes!?" Draco bellowed at his new teacher.

Professor Hyuuga ripped a small piece of the parchment and handed it to him. "If you c-call me Freak-eyes', I'll call y-you Manda'," she said quietly. "Now, if you're done, I would appreciate it if you'd--"

"Who cares what you'd appreciate!?" And with that he stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

"S-sorry?" she called quietly after him. The Gryfindores cheered in pure happiness of seeing the evil Draco Malfoy(who I'm sure wouldn't act like that) spited and detention-struck. Meanwhile, the Slytherins sulked and looked crabby, all except a certain Crabb and Goyle who looked happy and were cheering along with the Gryfindores.

She blushed furiously and quickly turned back to the board. She drew two for arrows, from the top to the bottom on both sides of her work. As soon as everyone calmed down a few minutes later she pointed to the board. "I-if y-you can figure out what this says by the end of the year," she looked out at everybody shyly,

"you won't have to take your end-of-the-year tests. Y-you'll automatically get a-an A." At this everybody quickly continued copying the symbols, as she continued. "You m-may use any resources. B-books, teachers, c-computers, anything."

---

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking down the hallway to their next class with smiling faces. The rest of the class had included attendance(which Draco was excused from) and having poetry read to them. It was fun to have poetry read to them, especially since the book was called Oh, What Nonsense! and was about the silliest things. One of the poems that the class had liked the most was about cantaloupe and antelope and how they couldn't eat themselves or eat other.

Their next class was about learning to care for magical creatures, with their friend Hagrid, a half-giant with a kind attitude and personality. It was held outside, a few minutes away from the castle that was Hogwarts. When they got there they saw half the people in the class already there, including a very grumpy Malfoy. Hagrid was also there, being the teacher. In his hand was a small purple blob-like thing that he was holding gently, a box of the same creatures right next to him.

"'Ello, Arry, Ron, Ermione!" he called from where he was standing, putting the blob into one hand so he could wave to them.

"Hey, Hagrid," Harry called back. Over the last couple of years he had become quieter and didn't talk as much, but he could always spare a few words or his good friend.

"So ow was our first class with Hinata?" he asked when they reached him.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"You know, Professor Hyuuga."

"Oh," he said. "It was really fun. She read to us and gave Malfoy a detention."

Draco sneered. "She only did that because I hurt her feelings. By the end of the year I'm sure she'll have given everyone one."

"Shut up, Malfoy. Your just embarrassed that you were given one first." Hermione stated matter-o-factly.

"What would you know, Mudblood-know-it-all."

Ron and Harry looked as through they were about to attack him, when Hagrid said, "Well, if ou'd like ou can get another detention fer language, Mr. Malfoy."

He sneered again. "Fine." And he stepped back to his two almost-friends, Crabb and Goyle.

Five minutes later everyone was there and Hagrid held out the blob. "This," he said motioning toward the blob, "is a quintle(made up)." Everybody looked to see it's black dot eyes floating in two different directions. "The quintle is a creature that can turn into anything. A bowling ball"—it turned into a bowling ball in front of their very eyes—"a fish"—the ball disintegrated into a cod fish—"and even people." And with that it turned into a baby, wrapped in a blanket and crying uncontrollably. "How ever, the quintle can only be these things for about an hour." At that the baby turned back into a purple blob with it's eyes unfocussed and separating.

"It's a blob of goo," Draco spat. "And how would that blob do us any good if it could only be something for an hour, anyway."

"Mr. Malfoy, the quintle is a very important creature that can be used fer many purposed."

"Yeah right."

"You know, Mr. Malfoy, your becoming more like a Manda everyday."


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Favorite chapter yet. Seriously.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

The New Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher At Hogwarts Is…. Hinata Hyuuga!?

Chapter 3: Just A Drabble

Hinata was just sitting there. In her classroom. At her desk. With the lights off. It was quiet. Hinata liked the quiet atmosphere and wished it was always quiet. And dark. Hinata liked to sit in the dark, alone, with a quiet atmosphere so she could think. She thought about everything and nothing at the same time. She had never been aloud to sit down by herself in the dark to think. Her father had never aloud it, always wanting her to train.

There was one window in her classroom. It was big and there was a dark purple curtain draped over it. The curtain was almost always closed, so the rain and wind and snow wouldn't get in, but right now it was open. It was cool and slightly breezy outside, blowing her hair and touching her skin lightly. Her room back home didn't have any windows, in fear she would use it to escape.

There was a beautiful sunset; it was the only light in the room, but Hinata was fine with it because she had never seen a real sunset, except when she was on life-threatening missions. He father had always made her go to bed right after dinner, which they ate silently a little after five. When she saw the sunset her eyes got all teary, but all she could do was think about her problems.

---

Gaara was sitting there, teary eyed and thinking about his problems. He hated to cry, but had been doing it more and more often every since he had learned to show a little bit of emotion. He sighed as he looked out the window in his bedroom at the sun. It would be about an hour until the sun would set, but the sky was already turning purple and orange. The sunset reminded him of all the bad things that had ever happened to him, but he smiled threw his tears.

"Gaara, you want to come down and watch the movie with us?" his older sister asked from outside his door. He roughly wiped his tears away and gave the near-sunset one final glance before he went to the door of his bedroom and opened it, seeing his sister still there with a bowl of popcorn in her arms. He smiled slightly and they both walked down stairs to watch the movie.

---

Naruto was sitting on his couch with his head on the shoulder of his lover, watching a scary movie they hadn't ever seen before. During the scary parts his lover's grip would tighten around him and he would return the gesture. Naruto loved his lover more and more every day, but wasn't sure if the relationship was going anywhere. He looked up warily as his lover's grip loosened and whispered, "Do you love me?"

The older boy smiled. "How could I not?" Then he leaned down and Naruto's lover kissed him. A real kiss full of emotion. "Do you?" Worry was clear in his eyes, which was unusual since they were usually either cold or emotionless.

"What? How could you even question that? Of course I love you, Sasuke." And again they were kissing happily.

---

Ino Yamanaka sat on the uncomfortable wooden stool behind the counter of her flower shop. "Closing time…" she said to herself as she got up and turned the sight on the door over. She left the building and locked the door on her way out. She walked a couple of blocks to her best friend's house. "You ready yet?" She called lightly, considering what time it was.

Her question was met by the door opening and her strawberry-topped best friend walking out. Locking the door behind her she said, "Yeah. So what did you say we were gonna do again?"

"Don't worry, Sakura, my mom said it was OK," she lied easily.

Her friend sighed. "Why did I ever offer you this again?"

"Because you're going to be with Tsunade, and that means we won't see each other as much," she said as they started to walk around the block to a small clinic a few minutes away.

Sakura sighed as they reached it and unlocked the door with her special key. They both walked down the hallways; their high-heels clicked against the hard floors the only audible sound. Sakura walked into one of the rooms and turned on the light with a flicker. Smirking, she said, "Right this way, ma'am."

Ino smirked as well and laid down on the cold metal table. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just do it already." She giggled. "Tomorrow I'll ask Shika-kun if they feel real." She giggled some more.

Sakura smirked and set to work on her best friend's chest, making it twice as big in only a couple hours.

---

Shino and Kiba were at their sensei's house. Kiba was on the brink of yelling as he sat impatiently, waiting for his sensei to come and say what they were doing at her house at this time of day. Shino just sat there, playing with a bug he had found on his way there, stroking it's deformed head lovingly. When their sensei, Kurenai, stepped into the small living room, Kiba lost his voice and Shino dropped his bug. "Why, hello," she said sedusively, walking closer to them. The first thing the two teenage boys' noticed was her clothing. It was… different than usual, per-say. Every time she took a step they could see her under wear slightly from under her red mini-skirt that looked more like a large, leather belt. Her hair was in a low ponytail and she was wearing a white leather top, no sleeves, V-necked, and a couple inches above her belly button. "Well, are you just gonna stand there or what?"

---

Iruka, Kakashi, and Genma were at a bar. Drinking a lot. Laughing. And about to faint. Genma finally passed out on the bar table and Kakashi dragged Iruka into a back room. "Can I—haha—help you?" Iruka asked as innocently as a drunken man could.

"Maybe."

---

Hinata was just sitting there. In her classroom. At her desk. With the lights off. It was quiet. Hinata like the quiet, and took the time to think about everything and nothing. Ever since she had gotten there two days ago she had been wondering what everybody else she knew was doing. Now she was finally able to think about that. She wondered if Gaara had started to open up to anybody, being Suna's new Kazekage. She wondered what Naruto was doing, and if he had confessed his love for Sasuke yet. She wondered if Sakura had let Ino go threw with the boob-job. She wondered if her two teammates, Kiba and Shino, were becoming stronger, or just slacking off and grooming their dogs or playing with their bugs. She wondered if her sensei had stomped being a pervert, or if she had asked Asuma out on a date. And she wondered (for some reason) what teacher's do when they aren't teaching.

Before she got to contemplate any of these subjects, though, the door slammed open and the lights flickered on. She looked up and saw a certain bleach blonde, and wondered why she had accepted this job.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto.

Author's note: Because of school and stuff my writing style will probably change ever chapter, so if it seems different, blame school. Also, did you know that in almost every language "mal" means bad? _Mal_foy. Hmmm…

The Defense Against the Arts Teacher at Hogwarts is…. HINATA HYUUGA!?

Chapter 4: Taijutsu, Ninjutsu, Kinjutsu, and Genjutsu Written on the Board

It is said that one strong wave of the sea can destroy a boat, just like one strong play on words can destroy a person from the inside out. And as the seas rough water played with the shore and the boats that were tied to the docks supporting poles dug deeply into the sandy earth, a person not so far away was sleeping contently, and enjoying her inner peace.

Hinata Hyuuga woke with a start. She ran a delicate hand roughly through her hair as she looked out the open window by her side and sighed. Standing up without a single sound she walked over to the window, sighing in contentment when the salty air brushed into her nose. She placed a small hand on the window ledge, steadying herself, still not quite recovered from sleeping. And her expression softened into a smile and her silver eyes went warm. She took in a breath deeply, calming herself, and trying not to remember what she had just dreamt of, but her mind wouldn't leave her alone. Her dream danced in her head as she looked over at the calm waters of the lake in front of Hogwarts.

Hinata's room was in a high tower of the main part of the castle. Just down one flight of steps and through a hall brought her to Dumbledore's office, while going in the other direction brought her to the Great Hall. Her classroom was also nearby. Just down the stairs and through two short hallways, so she knew she could stand there in her own world until the last moment before when she had to work. She had been working all her life, to become stronger, to become respectable, to be the person she wanted to be. Yet here she was, looking out the window of a tower while the full moon over head touched her face gracefully, while she just wanted to be with people she knew.

---

Hurtling down a long flight of curling stairs Hinata Hyuuga flew. She was going to be late. Even where she was, half way down the stairs, she could hear the sound of students hurried footsteps, trying to get to their classes. Everything went silent, and she gasped slightly as a loud gong rung, signaling class to start. Half a flight of stairs and two hallways later she walked into her room with a quick pace. The children in their seats quieted themselves when she turned to them, panting from being rushed.

"S-Sorry I'm late. I-I over s-slept."

She turned quickly to the board with the symbols on it and pushed it over to the side, revealing another, cleaner board. On it she wrote some simple spells they all knew and reviewed them quickly. With about half the time left in class she flipped that board over to reveal another blank side. She sighed.

"This," she wrote four words on the board, "is what I want you to know this year. It also wouldn't hurt if you knew some. That'll be extra credit."

The class looked up at the extra credit quickly, and read the four words silently: _taijutsu, ninjutsu, kinjutsu, genjutsu_.

She smiled slightly. "You may do as you wish for the rest of the time." She quietly patted herself on the back for not stuttering and began on the mess of paper work that had piled on her desk the night before, due to a very stingy Draco Malfoy and his disastrous detention.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: OMG, I'm soooo sorry for not updating in, like, over a year. It's just been hard to fit in time. Mmmmk, but I've actually got something important to say. There is most likely going to be some romancing, but I need to known between who. So here's the choices:

1. Gaara

2. Kiba

3. Draco

4. Harry

5. Ron

6. Snape

And if you can come up with any different ones you would like this to turn out to be, just tell me in a review (as opposed to one of those, of course, which you still have to tell me in a review). This chapter falls apart a little, I think, during the second section with Ron and Harry, since they're even more OOC than I make Hinata and Snape in the first and last sections. Don't worry, you'll see what I mean. So, yep, you should be kneeling at my feet for updating! On with the show! (Oh, and feel free to criticize.)

By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps

23 November 2007

Chapter 5: Not a One?

Hinata sighed, slumping over her desk. What was she supposed to do now? She'd already done her massive pile of work for the morning and didn't feel well enough to eat. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, showing its dislike in the fact it was empty. She looked at the open window again, the humid summer air making the room unbearable and hot.

Running a hand through her hair, she closed her eyes slowly. When would she be contacted from her village? She -was- the Hyuuga heir, after all, so that made her at least somewhat important. Besides, if not by her family, then her friends or team mates or even the hokage checking in to see that everything was OK on her end would have been satisfactory!

But no. It had been a week. A long, stressful week. And she had made such a -fool- out of herself. Not in a 'haha look at her' sort of way, but a 'what the hell is she talking about' sort of way. Not only did she have no clue what she was teaching—she was a ninja and political leader, after all, not a witch that had actually gone to a wizarding school—but she also was bad at teaching it! Someone else, like Naruto or Iruka or someone, as Hinata often thought, would make a much better teacher than herself. At least they could improvise.

But no, again. Hinata was a bad liar, and would stutter so much that it wasn't even possible to understand what she was saying anymore. Why else would she read on her first day, and not teach whatever life-saving skills she was supposed to teach? The life-saving skills she was supposed to -know-. She sighed, allowing her arm to collapse, still in her hair, and let her head fall to the table. Her stomach gave a loud whine of hatred aimed right at her, her not moving to avoid the hit as it washed over her in pure agony.

She grumbled to herself, lifting her head again to check the window one last time before turning to look toward the door, vision blurring slightly as she stood up too fast, the grays of the walls mixing uncomfortably. She sighed again, staggering to the large door. Upon opening it, she froze at the sight she saw.

It was Hermione, the smart girl that clearly disapproved of her lessons—like they were some kind of demon magic—standing with her hand held by her head in a fist, ready to knock n the door.

"Can I help you?" Hinata asked as politely as she could with her aching stomach and throbbing head, not even relishing in the fact that she didn't stutter once in her statement (1).

Hermione must have noticed it too, the smart girl, and continued on in a way that made Hinata have the urge to use the Jyuken on her (2).

"Yes, actually, you can," she started. "I was wondering if you could go over the lesson plans for the rest of the year, so I can study them faster, as you appear to be using a different source than the book we were told to get in our summer letters. So if it wouldn't be too much trouble…"

"I'm sorry, are you supposed to be here right now?"

"Yes," she said proudly, puffing up with intendancy, "actually, it's lunch right now for the whole school. I was going to ask you there but since you weren't sitting up at the Head Table I just supposed you would be working or something, so about those lesson plans…"

"Well, you supposed correctly, -Miss Granger-"—the name left her tongue like it was the plague, but Hermione, the smart girl, didn't get the hint (though if she did get it, she definitely didn't show it). "I'm sorry, but I do not have a…-copy- of the lesson plans just yet. They're still in the process of being -planned-, Miss Granger. I apologize. Is there any particular reason you would like them so badly?"

"Well…you know that Voldemort just came back…" Hermione waited for a moment, observing if Hinata would flinch or not—she didn't—before continuing. "My friend Harry—Harry Potter, that is—has to fight him every year, and potentially…ummm…kill him, because of this prophecy that some old coot—I mean, Seer—made telling the future of, basically, the world, so we have to be, uhh, prepared, you see."

"I apologize, Miss Granger, but I do not see. Go back to lunch please," she said at the soonest opportune moment, even cutting off the last few syllables in Hermione's speech, walking down the hallway herself toward the Great Hall, ready to ease her stomach and sooth her head.

* * *

It was hot and humid outside of Hogwarts, the end-of-summer air mingling with the pure hazy sensation that having a full stomach gives you. Ron and Harry sat out on the grass in front of Hogwarts, by the lake with the giant squid, doing their potions homework.

"Hey, where'd Hermione go?" Ron asked suddenly. "She was here, like, a second ago."

Harry looked up, startled, but then suddenly calmed down. "She said she had to talk to some teacher, didn't she?"

"Oh yeah…I hope it's not that Hyuuga one—you know, with the weird eyes."

"Ron!"

"I know, I know, but seriously. Did you -see- them? And also, she wouldn't look anyone in the eyes, no matter if she was talking to them or not."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Yeah! And her stuttering! It's soooo annoying! I mean, are we supposed to actually know what she's trying to say?"

"Well…"

"Well yeah! And I don't like the git one bit, you know that, but I have to agree with Malfoy that she's definitely a creepy, freak-eyed excuse for a teacher—even worse than Trelawney. I mean, I like her lessons just fine, since we don't have to work so much and she never gives homework, but it's not even in the book, which makes her hard to follow—since the whole speech thing, you know. And another thing--"

"Ron," Harry stopped him forcefully, "I think she's a fine teacher. I mean, what if what she's teaching us actually helps me defeat Voldemort?"

Ron flinched, but Harry didn't care. It was the truth, somewhat. While he wasn't quite sure about his first statement, his second one was dead on. He -needed- to defeat him, no matter what.

* * *

Professor Serverus Snape sat in his dungeon classroom, behind his desk, not really wishing to go to lunch all that much. What he was wishing was to know whether or not this new girl—the white-eyed shy one that annoyed the hell out of him with her unconfident stuttering (thank God he wasn't one of her students!)—worked for the Dark Lord Voldemort. The Lord works in mysterious ways (3), after all. She always wore that coat, so who knew what was on her arm. He would get closer to her (the annoying wench!), he decided, so he could see her arm. Yes, that's exactly what he'd do!

* * *

(1) – Hinata would like to inform you that she isn't stuttering because she's so grumpy that she can't really bring herself to care about someone as vile as Hermione, thankyouverymuch.

(2) – Jyuken is the Gentle Fist Style that allows the Hyuuga family to cut off chakra flow to close any or all of the 361 tenketsu (chakra holes), allowing them to shut down their enemy's internal organs and potentially kill them. Sorry, but I personally don't like Hermione that much.

(3) – I'm sorry, I had to.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N (PLEASE READ!): **Okay, seriously guys, I need some help here. I need HUGE plot help. I know where I want to go, but I don't know how to get there or what smaller events there should be, so if you want to see something or want me to go along with the book specifically, please, please, PLEASE tell me. And I need a beta, though I'm pretty good with grammar and spelling; that takes me, like, 3 days because it has to be _perfect_. (Then again, you'd get to read it before everyone else…)

The results are in!

Ron x Hermione – 1

Kiba x Hinata – 1

Snape x Hinata - 7

Draco x Hinata - 2

Gaara x Hinata - 9

Harry x Hinata - 2

Snape x Hinata x Gaara – 1

So, tah-dah! I'll try and make it as spot-on as I can! Sorry if it truly sucks, like the rest of this story does.

**Title: The New DADA Teacher at Hogwarts is Hinata Hyuuga?**

**Chapter: 6 – Durmstrang, Little Letters, and Some Interrupting Interruptions **

**Author: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps**

**Disclaimer: Alack! Neither of these lovely stories is mine.**

"But Albus! You cannot be serious!" Minerva McGonagall cried loudly in the Headmaster's cozy little office. She sighed, looking down and twiddling her thumbs slightly. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have implied such things."

"No, no! It's quite alright, Minerva, I believe that everyone thinks that I have made a bad decision in appointing Miss Hyuuga as a professor here," Albus Dumbledore said lightly, smiling admirably while his vivacious blue eyes twinkled in an almost worrying way.

"Well," the Transfigurations professor paused uneasily, "if you don't mind me asking," she hesitated again, "why, exactly, did you… choose… her to join our staff?"

Albus sighed, letting his façade crumble at his feet. "I was not aware at the time of her age or personality, only her schooling. Her resume says that she graduated as a foreign exchange student on some special program from Durmstrang Institute." (1)

McGonagall stiffened. "Durmstrang? They are known to teach the Dark Arts there, Albus! Really! How could you trust that?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Don't worry, Minerva. Someone may not be evil, even if they seem to be. Look at Severus, for example."

McGonagall held her tongue.

* * *

The brand-spankin'-new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked at her recently received letter from the Hokage in shock, nearly unable to breathe.

She had received it about ten minutes ago, near the end of her last class of the day. It was a good day – Friday, the English called it – so she could train in the Forbidden Forest the next day and catch up on some paperwork, for both her clan and her current mission.

She had opted to not read the message during her class, as she thought that would be rude to her students, though she nearly cried at the lost opportunity to escape from her living nightmare for a few short moments to read the dreadfully short letter.

The letter was short, by every definition, and straight to the point in fine Kana and Kanji.

_Hinata,_

_Due to Konoha's recent relationship with Suna, it has been decided that a skilled shinobi will aid you in your mission. They have chosen, in a peace offering, to allow Sabaku no Gaara to assist you as a teacher's subordinate. He has been given information that can help you control and strengthen the classes of scrawny little brats that you are in leadership of. He will be arriving on __nichiyōbi, so convince the leader of that academy to allow him to teach with you. _

_-Tsunade _(2)

"Boy, this mission just keeps on getting better and better!"

* * *

Snape sighed in aggravation. That infernal wench!

His schedule, which consisted of being a double spy for Dumbledore and Voldemort, had left him nearly no time to get close to the irking, frightened Defense professor, and his busy class schedule did not help either. He had almost not given out homework just because he didn't have any time to grade it! Blasphemy!

He had, fortunately, been able to hold his tongue just long enough to ask McGonagall if she knew anything about the strange, quiet teacher, to which she answered that she personally believed that the Hyuuga was not fit to teacher one bit, but that she had been a foreign exchange student in Durmstrang, to which he had added that he agreed that she would never be able to hold a class's attention and the students would walk all over her.

The part about Durmstrang, however, was interesting. Durmstrang Institute was known for teaching the Dark Arts, so she really could have the Dark Mark…

He tried not to think about it… another soul doomed for the rest of eternity… or otherwise.

Snape shook his head, turning a corner and stopping only briefly to take a rogue Hufflepuff's house points. (3)

He needed to speak with the Dark Lord immediately… He would know if this girl was evil or not, though Snape knew in the back of his mind that there was just no way that she could be. There was just so much innocence in her eyes. It was unbelievable. Even to Snape, someone who had seen very bright and very dim minds pass before him in his line of work, evil and pure, he had never seen someone with such untainted eyes, holding only compassion and sympathy.

He shook his head again, almost violently this time, right before entering the nearly empty Great Hall. More students would be pouring in soon for the last meal of the day, though the smarter ones knew how to get snacks from the kitchens.

He sat in his seat to the right of Septima Vector and to the left of Albus Dumbledore. Looking down the table to both sides of him, he saw that the infernal wench of his affections had still not arrived. She rarely did, he realized, slightly startled. The only days, he realized, that she had eaten in the Great Hall were the first day of school, and earlier that day at lunch, both of which she had been late to and had hardly eaten anything at.

She probably knows about the kitchens, he thought to himself, and instantly felt a little bit better.

* * *

"Oh, you guys will not believe what happened!" Hermione exclaimed, shoving her way through the crowd to a spot beside Ron and across from Harry at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall at supper. (4)

"What?" Harry asked with true interest, not caring in the slightest that he had rudely cut off Ron's insane babble about his cheating girlfriend, who he still believed to be as faithful as a lap dog. Ron looked slightly hurt, and then looked to Hermione as well.

"I talked to Hyuuga today at lunch!"

"Oh no! Not that freak again! Don't we already get enough of her?"

"Ron!" Hermione and Harry snapped at him at the same time, and in response he just rolled his eyes like he really didn't care that he had interrupted. After all, Hermione had been being a real whine about his steady lately.

After a moment of non-apology, Hermione continued with her tale.

"Anyway, during lunch I went to go talk to her about what we are going to do for the rest of the year because she's been so horrible so far, remember? But when I got back to the Great Hall, she wasn't there, so I said to myself, 'Self, she's probably just in her classroom; she's probably not that hungry right now.' So I went to her classroom and – tah-dah! – she's there! So I started asking her questions and stuff and she was soooo much different than how she normally is! She wasn't stuttering or anything and she seemed like a real grouch, and then after she told me to go back to where ever I had come from, she left! She walked away! Just like that!"

Ron snorted, going on about how Hermione thought everyone was terrible and how the young Hyuuga was a freak and a terrible teacher. Harry, however, thought about something slightly different while the two other members of the Golden Trio argued.

"WELL," he interrupted them loudly, effectively getting their undivided attention, "what if she was just tired or hungry – Hyuuga probably just hadn't gone down to lunch yet or she had just had a really bad class of Slytherins or something. She's obviously not that mean."

Hermione blushed, looking down, and Ron stiffened slightly, also glancing downward with a slight wince.

And, a long ways away, across rivers and oceans and forests and deserts alike, Sabaku no Gaara sighed, getting ready for his long, unearthly journey.

* * *

(1)- You didn't expect Dumbledore to trust someone who never went to one of the major magical schools of Europe to teacher one of the most important classes at his school, did you?

(2)- How else am I gonna get your choice of hunk to Hogwarts? Sorry the letter sucks; I thought it should be more formal because it's an order. Oh, and nichiyōbi means Sunday in Japanese.

(3)- There seem to be a lot of rogue Hufflepuffs roaming around Hogwarts, don't you think? - smiley smiley

(4)- Yes, I will spell Gryffindor differently in every single gosh-darned chapter if I want to, and I can guarantee that almost every time it will be spelt wrong. Take that!


	7. Chapter 7

7. Even Mice Are Strong (a.k.a. Victory, Strength, and Spies)

"Ah! Prof-fessor Dum-bledore-re, m-may I have a w-w-word with y-you?" Hinata asked the aging man kindly as she turned a corner in the dank hallways of Hogwarts.

"Why, of course. Is there something wrong, my dear? I certainly hope not, as the year has only begun," he responded, eyes twinkling like little blue stars on their white backdrop.

"A-actually, it does h-have to do w-w-with my t-teaching," she nearly whispered, momentarily hating herself for how weak and terrified she sounded in front of her employer.

"Ah, well would you prefer to have this conversation in my office, then? I don't quite wish for wandering ears to hear," Dumbledore frowned. This wasn't good. Since the moment he had seen this quiet, shy girl he had know she would make an interesting professor. He had been able to tell by her stutter and compact nature that her students, especially her Slytherins and probably her Gryffindors as well, as they tended to be quite malicious in their own respects, would walk all over her and take advantage of her and disrespect her (and judging by what he'd seen of their interactions with her, he was quite right in this assumption).

What he had not been expecting, however, was to be confronted about this problem by the young Hyuuga. She had seemed like the type to endure the pain and suffering on her own, not wanting to drag anyone else into the violence or corruption. Leading the girl who looked barely old enough to pass off as being out of school, he couldn't help but think that maybe he had pegged her wrong. But it was just the way she always acted, like a mouse, trying to be invisible, trying to fit in and avoid recognition, trying to please others while in the process sacrificing herself…

Telling the colossal gargoyle leading to the stairway to his office his new password, Hershey's Kiss, Dumbledore watched as it jumped out of the way and waited as the stairs took him and his subordinate to their destination.

Upon arriving and situating himself in the chair behind his large, cluttered desk, Dumbledore's fingers laced themselves together with almost no thought on his part and he waited for the quiet girl to situate herself. As soon as she was sitting (quite uncomfortably, he noticed, as she was perched on the very edge of the chair like she was ready to jump up and run out of the office as soon as possible), a smile found its way onto his old, wrinkled face and he could feel his mouth open slightly at the motion.

As opposed to making the skittish Defense professor relax, she seemed to tense by this small action and Dumbledore couldn't help but notice how quickly she turned her head away from the smile, an almost angry expression gracing her features for half a moment before she dragged her eyes back to him, refusing to meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare at his beard timidly.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" he asked as the silence became almost uncomfortable for him, though she seemed unaffected by the situation as she kept refusing to meet his face.

"Well," she said slowly, the stuttering dissipating from her speech for the moment, "I was wondering if, ano, uh, i-if I could, maybe... Ano, I-I ap-pologize, Dumbledore-san, I mean, P-Professor D-Dumbledore."

"It's okay, take your time. I have no place to be," he said unsurely, seeing how the girl was fine until she became unsure of herself. As soon as she became doubtful, the dreaded speech impediment came back and she was left feeling even more unsure and most likely scared, he realized, and suddenly saw just how terrifying his room must have been to the foreigner. Large paintings hung on the tall walls of many moving people, all dead, all chatting away, all probably very menacing from below, watching like a hawk watches a river for its prey. Dumbledore could hear the painting of a woman behind him giggling like she had just heard a juicy piece of gossip and felt she needed to share it with someone immediately.

"T-thank you, s-sir," she breathed out slowly, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment while taking deep breaths and most likely planning what she wanted to say to him. For a moment, she seemed to stop moving all together, before finally opening her eyes and looking at Dumbledore in the eye. Light lavender met twinkling blue for a split second, and she stood suddenly from her soft chair.

"Sir," she said, her voice still quiet, but now stronger and less fragile, "a friend of mine contacted me the other day." She froze again, turning away from the aging Headmaster for a few second, hyperventilating to herself, trying to calm herself down. Spinning around to face him again, she continued, "He said that h-h-he wants to become certified," her eyes travelled down to his beard again, "as a teacher, that i-i-is. He was wond-dering if he could assi-assist me w-with my classes."

Dumbledore, to say the least, was fascinated. "Ah, so your friend would also like to teach? How wonderful! The world could always use more professionals and demonstrators. Now, this friend, he wants to act as, say, an assistant to you?"

"Y-yes," she stumbled over the words again, the brief moment of bravery gone, and her knees pulled together, pulling her down to sit on the edge of her chair once again, leaning forward, as if trying to remain healthy while riding on a rocking boat.

"Well, I suppose that could be an interesting idea," he smiled, which she probably did not see from her near fetal position half on, half off the chair. She looked up, meeting his twinkling eyes once again.

* * *

"_What_ did you say to her? Albus! Honestly!" was what one might have heard if they had gone into the headmaster's office just after dinner that night, as Minerva McGonagall huffed angrily and the headmaster sat at his desk, staring into his nearly depleted bowl of lemon drops.

"I told her," he started, remembering how many times he had said these exact words within the last half an hour, "that Professor Hyuuga would be getting a teaching assistant – an assistant professor, if you will, Minerva – because he would like to work on his teaching abilities while being in contact with actual students. He wants to train in the environment that he will have to work in, which I believe is completely understandable."

Minerva threw her arms in the air, exasperated, and commented, "Do you know the man, even? Have you written to him by letters or fireplace? Have you seen his resume and met him _in person_, and not just by word of mouth? I do believe that that is how _she _came to work for you in the first place. You –"

"Minerva, dear –"

"No! You never check into people as thoroughly as you should, Albus! I'm sorry, but it's true! You'd never even seen Hyuuga until the day the students came, and you'd never spoken to her in person, either. You looked at her resume and spoke to Karkaroff – who seemed like he was high or drunk or something when you spoke to him – to see what his opinion of her was, and then gave her the job! You used to speak with your employees before you picked them. That's how you denied… You-Know-Who."

"No, I don't know who," Dumbledore quipped, agitated. He had tried to set up meetings with the girl, but since she was from Japan or China or Vietnam or one of those countries that Britain used to own, and the significant time difference, it was hard for them both to get in contact and find a time that worked for the both of them. While it was true that Karkaroff had seemed a bit off when they had spoken about her possible employment and her grades and behavior while attending Durmstrang, he had seemed to speak from the heart and really seemed to have enjoyed her company while she was there.

According to him, she was not a troublemaker, she stayed away from the children who were destined to be Death Eaters, she never spoke poorly of anyone, and her grades were phenomenal; she had never gotten anything lower than an A, the highest grade possible. In fact, he had said, she had received a nearly perfect score on her Defense NEWTs and OWLs, the only problem being that her posture while performing the spells she was told to perform was too compact (which Dumbledore now knew was probably from fear, as he had seen the same "compact" look at least a dozen times now), and the students of Durmstrang were supposed to stand tall and strong.

"Albus –" she started again, Dumbledore's comment fanning her flames.

"Minerva," he said soothingly, "I put much thought into who I was going to choose for the position, and after seeing her perform and speaking to her personally, I believe that I made a good choice. I had not realized, by the way she was spoken of, that she had a speech impediment, and I apologize if you do not approve of it," Minerva looked down, suddenly feeling very self-conscious, "but you need to trust my decisions, and I think this teaching assistant will help her. Besides, we will be adding another educator of great minds to this loving, wonderful world of ours," he finished on a light note, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

* * *

Hinata collapsed on her soft, somewhat lumpy bed. The only word she could think of in English to describe her day was _draining_, _hosu_, and she momentarily cringed at her thought process. So what if she had been forced to speak to someone who was her superior, she never acted that way with Tsunade. Then again, Tsunade was a different story; she had known her for years now and was used to the woman's antics. They had trained together in the arts of medicine and healing, and Hinata had grown used to the blonde Hokage's brash comments and sizeable personality.

Dumbledore, however, was _not _Tsunade, was not brash, did not have a sizeable personality, did not train with her in the arts of medicine and healing, and did not spend much time with her. Dumbledore was only an employer, like the old woman who had come to the Hidden Leaf's council and asked that she take the mission of finding her lost cat, or the kind brunette man who lived down the street from Ichiraku's and whose garden she had helped to weed with Kiba and Shino.

This mission and those missions were no different, Hinata summed up. All three were difficult in their own respects, and all three included superiors that were not Tsunade or Kurenai. The old woman and the kind brunette man who lived down the street from Ichiraku's had been her superiors, her employers to her missions, and she had been at their command to do the tasks they had instructed her to do, and Dumbledore was no different.

If he was willing to pay for the mission, then she would fulfill it, whether she had to make sacrifices or not. She knew, at that moment, that she could not let herself get in the way of this mission, this "teaching" job, this employment. This was her mission, he was her superior, and she needed to toughen up if she really wanted to complete it and go home at the end of the year. Tsunade said that she could only come home once the mission had been completed, and Tsunade's word was law. If Tsunade wanted her to infiltrate, spy, protect, and kill, then she would infiltrate, spy, protect, and kill.

She would not be weak, would not be defenseless, would not stutter or stumble or cry or be uncertain. She would be strong, would laugh in the faces of her nosey, rude students, would teach them how to defend themselves, how to fight, how to battle, how to survive.

Gaara was coming soon, and she was the reason it was okay. She smiled at the thought, turning over on the musty bed. She remembered the announcement at dinner that Dumbledore had made, how he would be allowed to come as a professor's assistant, how he would be helping her. Smiling to herself, she realized how nice it would be to see someone from her past, even if it was crazy Gaara. At least they spoke the same language, she marveled.

* * *

Shikamaru sighed, bored with life as he prowled the silent streets of Hogsmade. Nobody with a sane mind would be out that late at night, he thought to himself silently, pulling his anbu cloak closer to himself in an attempt to keep warm. Sighing again, noting how he could see his breath in the dark, clear air, he spotted a tavern that still looked to be open. Walking over to it, he peered in, viewing only a small amount of customers, all of which looked about ready to either leave or pass out. Stepping into the shadows cast by the building, he completed a few simple hand signs, muttering the words he needed to at the end, too lazy to move his mouth much.

After the smoke had cleared from his transformation jutsu, he strode into the tavern, looking like a true Brit with tidy, short brown hair a few shades lighter than his natural hair color, bright blue eyes, the color he had always wanted, and a "smashing" outfit, comprised of tan slacks and a red shirt from Wilson & Finch, which clashed with his now pale skin. None of the tavern's patrons looked up from their drinks to see him as he entered, and he found a sigh escaping his lips without even realizing he had made the conscious decision to sigh again.

"Hey there, what can I get'cha?" a busty woman with soft features and a kind face asked from behind the bar as the bell jingled above his head.

He sniffed a moment, getting himself used to the alcoholic smells and adjusting his eyes to the brighter colors, the multicolored bottles lining the walls being illuminated with an iridescent glow that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

"You make Rocky Mountains?" he asked quietly, pleased with how his voice had changed with the transformation. It sounded gravelly to him, and it had a slight smoky edge to it that he remembered only a few men ever having, and it reminded him of the steam that evaporated from his morning tea, light and airy, yet weighed down with invisible weights, like how Rock Lee was always weighed down with weights, yet they seemed to be invisible, he never felt them.

A small smile tugged at his pale, now thin lips as the woman behind the bar mixed some Amaretto, Southern Comfort, and lime juice in a container. Had Asuma or Ino or Chouji heard his crazy comparison back when they were a team, they would have laughed and he would have sighed and smiled and told them how troublesome they were, not meaning a word of it as he relaxed and watched the clouds, being yelled at for not working hard enough and not training and not being dedicated and motivated.

A frown dragged itself onto his face slowly. Asuma had always said that he was unmotivated, which he had to agree with to a certain extent. If he didn't, then he must not have been the genius that all of the IQ test he had been forced to take said he was, but he was definitely motivated. Why else would he be there, halfway across the world, for a recon mission?

Shikamaru hated recon, he remembered as he observed the woman who had just finished making his shot and was now placing it on the bar top in front of him, smiling at him languidly and flirtatiously. The Hokage had sent him on a recon mission, of all things! He hated the way he had to be so silent and so observational and could not just sit and watch the clouds. He needed to always be aware, even though he always was, as that was the shinobi way, but he was supposed to be on his toes, ready to make any sudden movements, ready to jump up at the drop of a dime, and he was tired already.

Taking the tiny clear glass with his drink in it into his too large, too pale hands, he remembered the class that everyone had been forced to take while in the Academy about drinking and drugs. It had been about the effects of alcohol and certain drugs on their bodies, and it was meant to prevent them from doing them during or before a mission.

How he'd hated that class. He'd hated how boring it was and how informational it was, like a dry pamphlet that his parents used to receive in the mail with no return address. Thinking back on it, he remembered how everyone got those types of pamphlets, and how most people had always thrown them away. Shikamaru himself had read a few of them, and while they were dry, they did have some good, interesting information hidden in the plain lines and sentences.

Throwing back the drink, he couldn't help but remember how motivated he was. Because even if he never really seemed like it and was always just thought of as the lazy genius who never did anything other than lay around and watch the clouds go by, along with his life, his life that was unsuited for a shinobi and in his mind never should have been used to build a shinobi, never mind an anbu, he was motivated, and if Asuma and Ino and Chouji could have seen him just then, the look he got in his new blue eyes, the rigor he got in his red-clothed shoulders, the determination that seemed to glow from him like the light glowed through the multicolored bottles on the walls, they would have realized his startling dedication and ardent motivation.

But even then, without seeing him or hearing from him or speaking with him, they should have known that he was motivated because he was on a recon mission and above all else he hated recon missions.

* * *

Severus Snape by then had become accustomed to being called a snake, and it really never bothered him until now. Sure, as a child when it had first started he had been upset by it, but over time the insults and annoying jabber about him had ceased to affect him and he no longer cried nor felt bad about himself.

This day, however, had snagged a thread in his self-conscience and pulled at it until his entire mind had unraveled and broken him down, deteriorating his life from the inside out, almost like a corrosive poison or potion that he had made a thousand times called Mercuradience by other potions masters, though Snape preferred its proper name, Mercurpalla-algerradience.

While the proper name was less commonly used and much harder to pronounce, Snape liked it and thought it described the dark green liquid perfectly, all the components of the name describing the purpose of the potion. So if the shorter name was talked about more, then why didn't it hold all the properties of the potion?

To Snape, everything had always been black and white, bad and good, evil and innocent. Everything had always been stated and showed exactly what it was supposed to. The answer was always in a book, the professor was always right, and questions weren't worth asking because all the information was already provided.

Snape couldn't help but briefly think about his class of sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins that he'd taught earlier that week. They'd not understood his directions for the class period and had nearly blown up their cauldrons, though sparks had flown and hit a better portion of the students. Upon finding the culprit, a very skittish, scared, and severely-burnt Neville Longbottom had stuttered and whispered about how he hadn't understood and then proceeded to beg for mercy.

Snape could remember how his face had contorted into a sneer and how he'd seen the boy's potions book and copy of the directions lying on the floor. It seemed that the boy had not thought that they could have held the truth in them, for he had not followed them exactly, and he hadn't asked any questions not because he hadn't needed to, but because he was too afraid.

Blood boiling, Snape was drawn back into his current situation with a painful gasp, and he absently felt himself being yanked harshly by the collar of his cloak and his face was thrown away from the pensive of his own memories, the day he had received his Dark Mark.

Glancing up at his assailant with unfocused eyes, Snape was finally aware of why the hurtful words that had been uttered to him on that day had stung so much. They had come from his new master, his owner, his leader with the power to either take him into the dark abyss or put him on a pedestal and achieve glory and domination against anyone who had ever wronged him or said mean words to him or looked at him the wrong way or asked him useless questions when they didn't need to.

And looking up into those cold, red, snake-like eyes with a wooden wand pointed at his left forearm nearly made that risk worth taking.

* * *

A/N: Heyy guys, hope ya'll like it. Sorry I haven't updated in nearly 10 months, but I've just been so busy and unmotivated. Like, honestly, I would've had a chapter out such a long time ago, but I just couldn't think of anything to write.

_You guys who reviewed are my heroes, and I love you guys :)__. You're all the best. You're support and suggestions really helped me get through this._

Umm, the writing of this chapter only took me about 3 or 4 days, writing a section or half a section a day over the course of about a week. I really wanted to make this chapter longer for you guys because it's been so long and a real problem of mine is not being able to write long chapters, so I really wanted the text to accumulate, and after my Shikamaru section, I just felt like I was stuck, so I really couldn't write any more after that. It's been about a month and a half since I've written the Shikamaru section and I'm just posting this now.

As you've probably noticed, my style changed a little bit, and hopefully my grammar has gotten better as well. I went back and was reading the previous chapters and could hardly get through them, the grammar was so atrocious, as was the content and the info, and again guys, thank you so much for reading it and supporting my story. You all rock.

I don't want to keep you all waiting again, so I'll try harder, but I can't promise you anything, sorry. Just like last time, reviews and suggestions are always welcome, and feel free to talk to me. Most of you reviewers know that I talk back :).

4.6.09


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